


Maybe

by Patchwork drabbles (PurplePatchwork)



Series: RusAme Drabbles [36]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Attraction, Introspection, M/M, OTP Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePatchwork/pseuds/Patchwork%20drabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia is unsure whether or not he should bridge the gap between friendship and attraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe

Ivan eyed his phone as if it were a ticking time bomb. His fingers drummed restlessly on the polished flat of the table, other hand supporting his chin as nails dug into the flesh.

He shouldn’t be thinking about calling Alfred. Calling Alfred would be a very bad idea, the worst even. He and Alfred had been on bad terms for quite a long time now; just because the American had begun acting a little different around him that didn’t mean past friendships could be revived. There was no way they would ever return to what they were before, before… before reality had slapped them in the face.

Still, his hands twitched to grab the phone. Dial the number, make an arrangement. Some coffee perhaps, or a quick lunch get-together. Just… talk. Maybe even crack a few jokes. And Ivan would smile when Alfred let out that boisterous laughter he so admired, full of youth and energy, something untamed and unlike any other laugh. Ivan loved that about Alfred.

The frown deepened. No, not love. Those were forbidden territories he mustn’t venture. There might have been a possibility, a very long time ago, when Alfred admired him and he felt an undying fondness for the youngster. He couldn’t feel that again. Those times were long gone. That child was long gone. True, Alfred still had his childish moments, but he had grown up in so many other aspects. Too fast, too much.  _There was already so much blood in his mind_ -

Ivan groaned and covered his eyes with both hands. Why were social relationships so difficult? He couldn’t live without them, yet life would be so much easier if he were to seclude himself and never show his face again. No constant doubting himself, his actions, his appearance, the action of others, how they thought about him, what were their true intentions… It was all so exhausting. It would be worth it if he had a friend, even one close friend. There were some, however none he fully trusted. Too much had happened for that.

The hands slid down until they fell useless to the tabletop. Was Alfred like that as well? Of course, he had a dark side. They both had. The past few years had proven that more than once. And yet… And yet he couldn’t forget the friend he once had. Couldn’t stop himself from wondering if that was once again possible. Not like before, never like before, but…

His head came to gently rest between his open hands, eyes fluttering shut. If he focused real hard, he could hear the sound of his heartbeat. It was a weakly stuttering, as if it was trying to escape again. It had done that before. Ivan never understood why, but it happened. Would such a fact disgust Alfred, or rather fascinate him? He, who had such a strong heart, beating like the running of a thousand horses over the empty plains. It would never falter, never give in (or out). Not even that one time, when things had gotten especially rough, and Ivan could still feel his hands close around that pulsing neck-

 Ivan swallowed back the sudden lump. Of course it was a bad idea to call Alfred. Too much had happened between them. Even if the antagonism seemed to have mellowed out, the past could never be resurrected. Ivan knew that fully well. So why keep hoping? Why keep dreaming about amazingly blue eyes and a smile that warmed his cheeks? Why keep feeling that need to talk to him, tease him into stubborn playfulness, touch his golden locks?

It wasn’t friendship, nor was it love. Definitely not love. Preposterous. So he thought as his hand once more reached towards the phone, that small thing looking so dangerously big in his eyes.

He was startled when it suddenly began ringing. Lifting his head off the table, he pulled the phone towards him. The caller was familiar.

With beating heart he let his index finger hover over the buttons. Pick up, or don’t pick up? Even if he did, Alfred probably wasn’t calling because of the reasons Ivan wanted him to call. And yet…

His frown deepened once more. He swallowed harshly and pressed the button.


End file.
